The Impromptu Road Trip 2
by Azrael-013
Summary: They’re at it again, although this time it’s a race between two teams to get to the finish line. Egos are on the line, underhanded tricks will be played, and nothing is too sacred. Rated T for humor, language and the usual amount of stupidity.
1. First One to Florida Gets Braggin Rights

**The Impromptu Road Trip 2**

Genre: Humor/Action/Adventure

Rating: T

Summary: They're at it again, although this time it's a race between two teams to get to the finish line. Egos are on the line, underhanded tricks will be played, and nothing is too sacred. Rated T for humor, language and the usual amount of stupidity.

Despite the fact that the first Road Trip took me some four years to write, I did have fun doing it, when I wasn't being plagued by writer's block, that is. The idea for a sequel popped into my head the moment I uploaded the last chapter of the previous story here at , but I decided to push it away in the event that it took me another four years to complete. But it persisted. And I sat down a few weeks ago and within an hour this first chapter was complete. So, in short, here I go again.

A few things to note: this story is set prior to Jeff's suspension, as I did want to include the younger Hardy brother in the craziness without the troubling circumstances surrounding him at the moment. However this is not meant to trivialize what is happening to him now and I hope that he gets back on his feet soon.

Note two: I will inevitably make a lot of references to the first Road Trip story, but I believe that the way I am structuring this sequel will allow readers to follow it even without having read the first one.

And with that out of the way, I give you The Impromptu Road Trip 2.

Disclaimer: All wrestlers portrayed in this work of fiction are property of themselves and of World Wrestling Entertainment (rights to names and such, if any). Any other known people, venues, brands, etc that are mentioned belong to their respective owners. I do not even have the satisfaction of owning the computer this story is pounded out on. I am dead broke, and neck deep in debt. Be kind.

Date Uploaded: 28 March 2008

**Chapter 01: First One to Florida Gets Braggin' Rights**

"Remind me again why in the hell we have to take a rental to the next show in Florida," Mike Mizanin inquired for about the seventeenth time since he and his tag team partner left their hotel.

"I told you," John Morrison replied, also for the seventeenth time, "We got this memo that there's some sort of mechanical problem with the WWE plane. So we're going to have to drive to the next venue ourselves."

The Miz grumbled at that. As of the moment the two of them were in the Avis rental group, checking out a couple of sedans that they could rent for their ensuing trip. It was safe to say that neither of them much treasured the idea of having to drive a few hundred miles, just so that they could arrive exhausted for a house show. But the boss hath spoken, and if they just weren't getting paid oodles of money for what they did then they would have bolted ages ago.

"You know, we should organize a union," Miz said. "One that makes it illegal to impose having to cart our own asses from one show to another, busted plane or not. I mean, don't we do enough as it is, being the ones who get beaten up in the ring every night?"

"Dude, I don't know," Morrison said with some degree of frustration. "Now, do you want the Corolla Ascent or the Camry?"

At that moment the doors opened and Paul London and Brian Kendrick walked in, both chuckling over a joke one or the other had made. They caught sight of their erstwhile rivals. "So, getting a car too, huh?" London said, making small talk.

"What else would we be here for?" Morrison answered snappily.

"Dude, it was just a question, no need to bite my face off," London said.

Before either Morrison or Miz could reply to that, Kendrick took a peek at the counter, gave a small squeak and then immediately tried to hide behind London, covering his face with an old gossip magazine from the coffee table as he did so. All three of them looked at him in surprise. "What's gotten into you?" London asked him.

"That guy behind the counter," Kendrick, or Spanky, as this narrative will now stick to calling him, hissed furtively. "Don't let him see me."

"Why?" Miz asked, baffled, looking at the rather effeminate clerk over the counter, who was in the middle of typing up something in the computer.

"Long story," Spanky said, pulling London into what he believed was a position that covered him better. "Just make sure he doesn't see me or none of us will get a rental, all right??"

This, of course, obviously led to more questions, and London was about to ask one of his own when the doors opened again and Matt and Jeff Hardy walked in. The atmosphere among the three teams tensed up at that point, as the six of them eyed each other with varying degrees of mistrust. All of them had been in matches together and against each other before and most of the instances of their meetings never ended happily or bruise-free.

Fortunately before anything nasty could be said, Matt noticed Spanky's cowering position behind Paul London. "Brian, what the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Matt, look sharp," Spanky told him, jerking a thumb as discreetly as he could towards the desk.

Matt turned to look, and, to everybody's astonishment, immediately reacted the same way that Spanky did, this time grabbing Jeff and putting his brother firmly in front of him so that the view to his face was obscured. "What in the fuck has gotten into the two of you??" Morrison now demanded.

"Keep your voice down!" Matt scolded.

Jeff tried to wriggle out of his brother's reach but Matt firmly planted him where he was. "Ow, damnit, Matt, this didn't work in playing hide and seek with dad twenty years ago and it won't work now!"

"We weren't playing hide and seek then, I was letting you take the rap for whatever shit I happened to do that week," Matt snapped at him.

Jeff blinked. "Oh. No wonder I didn't have any clue what he would send me to my room about before. Wait, does that mean YOU were the one who popped the head off Mrs Cullingham's garden gnomes??"

'Hey, back to the topic here!" Miz said. "Are either of you two going to—"

He was cut off when the doors swung open again and Carlito, the WWE Champion Randy Orton and Ken Kennedy entered simultaneously, Randy in the middle of telling the other two whether their hair and makeup lady really did spit or swallow, and Carlito grinning and wondering if he should inform Randy that that wasn't a lady in the first place. Apparently Kennedy was aware of this fact as well and gave Carlito a knowing nudge.

Randy stopped and looked at the group gathered. "Hah, talk about the odd couples. Have you guys finished? Because the three of us want to get out of here as soon as possible without anybody seeing us."

"Yeah, because of that whole malfunction with the plane we actually have to rent a goddamn car and drive ourselves to house shows for an indefinite period of time," Kennedy scoffed. "It's doubly bad, especially since Vince and company still use the private jet," he scowled. "Even JBL's getting free rides from him, can you believe that? I mean, fuck Bradshaw."

"You fuck Bradshaw," Morrison retorted irrationally.

"Listen you pretty boy pinhead, piss me off and I will shove your flashy faux fur coats down your throat and have you shitting rugs for the next two weeks," Kennedy snapped at him.

"Hey, can we all just relax? Chill," Carlito said, putting himself in between the two of them. "You all read the memo; aside from driving to the arenas, Mr McMahon said that if any of us get caught fighting in public again he'll take away our clothing allowance too, and Carlito likes his threads, man."

"I can't see why; I mean, you only marginally dress better than Michael Cole," Miz told him.

"Hey, are we going to hire some cars or just stand around insulting each other?" Randy demanded, annoyed.

It was at that moment that Kennedy noticed Matt and Spanky cowering. "And what the hell is wrong with the two of you? I mean aside from the obvious."

"I really don't feel like answering that question again," Spanky said.

"Funny, you never really answered it the first time," Miz pointed out.

The increasingly growing group was interrupted once more when the doors opened and CM Punk and John Cena walked in. They stared curiously at the nine people gathered in the reception area. "Is there some weird office party we weren't aware of?" CM Punk asked.

Matt ignored his pun and grabbed John Cena by the arm, stuffing him behind a fake plant as best as he could. "Hey, man, what gives?" Cena asked indignantly.

"Remember the guy behind the counter? I'll bet you a thousand bucks he remembers us," Matt told him.

Cena looked, let out a curse and tried to hide himself as well, not faring much better behind the plastic plant than he did the first time. Kennedy looked exasperated. "All right, that's it, this is absurd. If these bozos don't want to tell us what's gotten up their shorts then we might as well hire cars and get out of here."

"Good, because I just remembered another one of Vince's brilliant solutions on saving money while making trips," London suddenly spoke up. "He suggested carpooling."

Everyone stopped and stared at each other in horror. The last thing any of them wanted was to be stuck driving beside an enemy, a bastard, or just a plain tool. And speaking of tools, at that moment the doors were flung open wide and the Heavyweight Champion strolled in, cockily displaying his title on one shoulder and a brilliant set of pearly whites in a leering grin. The latter disappeared the moment Edge caught sight of who had gathered in that area. "Great, I come here to get a car and catch the assface convention."

Kennedy let out a snarl and he, CM Punk and John Cena would have probably tackled him to the ground if the clerk at the counter didn't stand up and come over to them. His nametag said 'Gerry' and he smiled as the three who were hiding themselves as best as they could from him repositioned themselves with newfound ardor. "Have you made your decision?" he asked Morrison and Miz.

"Yeah, we decided we would go with the Camry," Morrison said.

"Hey, I never agreed to that," Miz argued.

"Well you were so busy bickering with the others that I figured I'd choose for the both of us," Morrison said to him.

"Well, if you two want to mull it over some more I'll just nip off and get more forms for the others," Gerry said helpfully. "Our clientele has doubled today with so many wrestlers coming in to rent cars going to Florida."

"You wonder if maybe Jericho ducked around like what we're doing too?" Spanky mused to Matt from behind his magazine. Matt shrugged.

"Must be really good for business then, huh?" Randy said as he leaned on the counter.

Gerry gave him a bright smile and batted his eyelashes, causing Randy to take a slight step back. "Oh of course. Although I have to admit, we were a little wary to rent out to you guys after the fiasco that happened last time."

"What 'fiasco'?" London asked curiously, ignoring Spanky's urgent digs in the ribs to keep him quiet.

"Well it was about five years back," Gerry said, tapping his lips as he recalled it. "I was working at the Phoenix branch back then, and we rented out an SUV to eight wrestlers driving in from Seattle. They managed not to just total the vehicle but then it also blew up on the side of the freeway. After forensics were done with it they also said that there were traces of marijuana on the floor and even a bottle of urine."

"'Urine'??" Cena inquired, looking quizzically at Matt and Spanky.

Spanky colored. "Well, I had to do SOMETHING during the times we couldn't stop for a bathroom break."

Matt and Cena groaned in disgust, and even London, who had overheard, tried to pry himself away from his partner.

Gerry brightened. "Anyway, we've made it part of our company policy never to hire out to those eight again. Besides, I know them by face too, and so far I haven't seen them come in today."

Edge was listening to this and a wide grin had crossed his face, having easily put two and two together. He figured that this would be an opportune time for him to get revenge on the pigsty that he returned to after Matt, Cena and Spanky were through with his hotel room in Vegas five years ago. He cleared his throat, "Actually..."

Cena, who figured Edge would sell them out with almost no provocation, reached over and got him in a headlock, all the while still keeping his face hidden. "You open your trap, Sledge, and I'll inform them that you were in on the ride for a period time as well!" he threatened.

"You can't pin anything on me, Vanilla Ice," Edge growled, throwing his arm off.

"You implicate us, Copeland, and we'll make sure it reaches Vince that it was you who fucked up our means to make the next show in time," Matt snarled at him.

At that point Spanky had an idea and whispered hurriedly to London, "Hey Paul, what do you say we give that carpooling thing a try with the Hardys and Punk and John? I mean, it'll save Matt, John and I from showing out faces and we'll be complying with all of Mr McMahon's weird new rules at the same time."

"That's a good idea, let's go with that," Matt said quickly, nodding.

"Jesus, yeah, let's do it!" Jeff cried. "Anything to get you to stop using me as a bizarre sockpuppet!"

"I'm cool with it," CM Punk said, going over to the counter and taking one of the applications from Gerry. "We've decided that six of us are gonna take an SUV or a van or something." He glanced at the models on display. "How about a Kluger?"

"I'll check on the availability," Gerry said, popping out of the room for a bit.

"Hah, you six are going to share a vehicle?" Randy scoffed. "There's a nightmare I wouldn't want to experience."

"It beats hopping into a van with the six of you arrogant, attention-seeking, posturing bitches," London fired back.

"Who are you calling a bitch??" Carlito demanded.

"Aw, leave him alone, Carlito," Kennedy said. "He's only sore because he knows that if the six of us, arrogant, posturing bitches that we are, decided to carpool, we'd function better as a group than he and the other mismatched pansies and reach our target destination first."

Jeff burst out laughing. "You guys? Yeah right! All of you would end up trying to strangle each other five minutes into the ride."

"You and Matt will too," Edge pointed out, remembering a few road trips he had had to endure with the Hardy Boys in the past.

"That's different," Jeff defended. "We do that as a means of portraying sibling affection." Matt groaned and shook his head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on," Cena said, still behind the plant. "I think I heard a challenge thrown up in here. Kennedy, you said that Orton, Carlito, Mr Slow-Mo and Miz, Edge and you would be able to get to Florida first over the six of us. Are you willin' to stand beside that statement?"

Kennedy gave him a scornful look. "Do I ever stutter? Of course I do."

Cena grinned slyly. "Care to put that to the test then? The six of us against the six of you. First one to Florida gets braggin' rights. We'll see who's each other's bitches."

There was a moment of silence as the two thrown together teams stared at each other over a sofa set, three on the 'face' team still trying to hide lest a security camera catch their faces. At that point Gerry returned, smiling as he said, "You are in luck. There are two of those vehicles available."

"Great, we'll take them both," Edge said, grabbing an application. "One for those losers and another one for us."

"Fantastic," Gerry said brightly. "And will you be paying for the insurance on both of those vehicles as well?"

"**YES**," all twelve of them said immediately, startling the clerk.

And with that the race was officially on.


	2. Just That Little Bit More Memorable

I wanted a little interactivity with this story, so I've decided to take advantage of the Polls option and created a little one to allow the readers to vote on which of the two teams in this story will win the race. I think I'll keep it open almost up until the end of this story, so for anybody interested please go to my profile and vote! Thanks so far for the reviews, and here is chapter two.

Date Uploaded: 30 March 2008

**Chapter 02: Just That Little Bit More Memorable**

The parking lot of the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Houston was crowded on any given day, but on that particular Wednesday morning it was full of rental cars of different makes and sizes. It was in these vehicles that WWE crewmembers and wrestlers from all three brands were loading luggage and ultimately piling into on their way to the next show. The roads between Houston and Tampa were due to be congested for the next few days.

On one end were two identical Kluger SUVs, one in graphite and the other in sandstone. The 'face' team consisting of London, Kendrick, the Hardys, CM Punk and John Cena had taken the sandstone one and were currently stuffing their belongings into the baggage space.

Mickie James was giggling as she followed Jeff towards the SUV. "So you guys are really serious about this whole race thing, are you?" she said.

"Of course we are," Jeff said adamantly.

"Uh, why have a race in the first place?" she asked. "I mean, there's such a huge propensity for total fucked-up-ness to happen. Just listen to what your brother had to undergo five years ago. I really don't get it."

Matt, who had been studying the map, looked up sharply at her. "How do you know about what happened five years ago?"

"Uh, because I read, duh," Mickie said to him. "Remember a little book entitled, 'Eating Asphalt' by your fellow road tripper Mick Foley? Plus, I got chatty with Gerry from the Avis rental place. Really nice guy. It wasn't hard to put two and two together."

"Speaking of which, did you happen to see Jericho there while you were at it?" Spanky asked her.

"Yeah, I did actually," Mickie replied. "He walked in, saw the clerk and then walked right back out. I don't know if he's managed to hitch a ride with anybody else."

Matt groaned and made a dispelling motion with one hand as he turned his back and went back to the map. Jeff shrugged and said, "Well, large chances for fucked-up-ness or not, we're doing this to put the guys on the other team in their place."

"You mean you want to beat them and lord your win over them," Mickie said.

"Precisely," Cena said.

"On the other hand, you guys do realize that if we don't win this thing those six assholes are going to hang it over our heads for the rest of our natural lives, right?" CM Punk said, leaning on the SUV.

"Who says we're not going to win?" Jeff challenged, having already commandeered the passenger seat.

"Well to be honest we don't have a whole lot going for us," London spoke up contemplatively. "I can't read the map given to us and Matt's currently holding it upside-down now, so I'm guessing he's not having much luck either. From what I can tell, Jeff's disruptive on road trips, Cena's not that much better and Spanky, well, let's just say that he likes his rest stops."

"So just give him another bottle," Matt said surly as he came up to them.

"That is really disgusting," CM Punk commented.

Spanky frowned from inside the vehicle. "Is it my fault that I have a weak bladder?"

Punk sighed. "Does anybody have a better idea?"

Cena took off his cap and scratched his head. "London's got a point. I mean, a large part of why the guys and I got so hopelessly sidetracked before was because we were all so uncontrollable. As for the guys on the other team, well, Kennedy and Edge may hate each other but you can't say that they aren't driven. They'll lug the whole team along if they have to."

"Any ideas?" London asked, even as Matt folded the map back up and grumbled something about it probably being clearer in Japanese.

Cena rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and then grinned as an idea popped into his head. "Hey Hardy Boy – yeah, you Jeff – toss me your phone, would you?"

"What's wrong with yours?" Jeff asked as he gave his cellphone to Cena.

"Punk batted it straight into the wall last night in a game of spontaneous hotel room baseball," Cena replied as he proceeded to make a call.

"Hey, in all fairness I told you to use something else as the ball," Punk defended.

Mickie shook her head in disapproval. "Really, boys, that is so juvenile."

"You were playing catcher!" Punk reminded her.

"Whatever. Anyway, my ride's about to leave. See you boys at Tampa, and good luck!" Mickie said, waving as she ran to join Maria, Ashley, Kelly Kelly and Michelle McCool at their own rental.

Spanky and Jeff watched them go. "Damn. Any chance I could ride with them?" Spanky wondered wistfully.

"'Fraid not, buddy, you're stuck with us," Jeff said, patting his back. "And within this van, these are the only big jugs you're going to see," he pulled out two large bottles of orange soda. "Drink up."

London immediately inserted himself into the SUV and grabbed the bottles before Spanky could take them. "Oh no you're not," he snapped. "From now on you only drink when I tell you to."

"And he'll probably burp you afterwards too," Punk said, causing Jeff to laugh and Spanky to sulk.

On the other side at the graphite-colored Kluger, five members of the 'heel' team, Ken Kennedy, Carlito, Miz, Morrison and Randy Orton, were also busy packing up their things and making plans.

"If we go straight without any rest stops we can make it to the I-12 toward Hammond by the end of the day," Kennedy was saying, consulting the rather large fold out map that he was holding out in front of him.

Randy Orton shoved his arm out of the way so that he could finish loading his luggage into the back of their rental. "Listen, that's all well and good, man, but who exactly is going to be able to drive ten hours straight to Hammond without dropping off from exhaustion?"

"I can do it," Miz immediately offered.

"No, you can't," Morrison immediately snapped. "You're hopped up on Red Bulls – we stick you in the driver's seat and you'll burn out within two hours. Maybe Carlito can do it."

"Screw that," Carlito immediately said where he had gotten inside the SUV. "Carlito's not carting all your asses for ten hours straight. Besides, I call navigator."

As an argument on who would best be able to take that first, arduously long driver shift began, Edge was near the entrance to the hotel, trying to placate a visibly disappointed Vickie Guerrero. "I still really don't see why you can't ride with us on our way to Florida," Vickie said with a pout.

"Vickie, sweetheart, we went over this," Edge said, rubbing her hand. "When I walked into the rental place to get a vehicle for us, I got suckered into this whole race thing."

"I knew we should have insisted that Hawkins and Ryder get a car for us – where the hell were those two this morning anyway?" Vickie demanded.

"Probably jacking each other off in the shower," Shannon Moore commented as he passed by, causing both Vickie and Edge to shoot him a dirty look.

Teddy Long, who was once again manning Vickie's wheelchair, straightened his face to remove the urge to laugh and then spoke, "I think they said something about making a quick visit to an old friend who lived in the area before heading out."

"Those selfish ingrates," Vickie spat. "And now my poor, dear Edge has to ride in a clunky SUV with five other people instead of us."

"A great loss to us all, surely," Teddy mumbled to himself.

"Look, Vickie," Edge said, crouching down in front of her, "It's just for a few days on the road, and then we'll be able to enjoy each other's company again in Tampa. I'll suffer without your company and you'll suffer without mine, but as they say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'."

"Oh, that is so true, Edgy-poo," Vickie said, cupping his face and giving him a light smooch as Teddy rolled his eyes heavenward.

Thankfully Edge managed to pry himself away from Vickie and head back to his team, just in time to hear Randy Orton vehemently make his case on why he shouldn't take the long driving shifts. "… And furthermore, sitting in one position for a long period of time causes extreme numbness in my posterior AND my appendages. Plus, I think I may be borderline color-blind."

Kennedy gave him an annoyed look. "You really are a dickhole."

Randy bristled at being insulted, but before they could launch into a bigger fight a whistle came from where the other team was. The six of those at the graphite vehicle looked up to see John Cena walk up to them. "Cat-fightin' already, girls?"

"Get over yourself, Cena," Randy said scornfully. "What do you want?"

"I actually wanted to tell you guys that I just had a phone call with a few of our mutual buddies and ended up telling them about this little race we're havin'," John said. "Well they got kind of into it too and decided that we needed a little somethin' extra to make things even more interesting."

"'A little extra'?" Miz echoed with a raised eyebrow.

"'Mutual buddies'?" Morrison repeated suspiciously.

At that moment another car rumbled over to come to a stop beside their vehicle in the parking lot. One of the windows in the back rolled down and an altogether very familiar face poked out and gave them all a big grin. "Hey, assclowns. So it's a race now, is it?"

Edge let out a big groan. "Oh fuck no. Jesus Christ, Jericho, what do you want now?"

"Well John, Matt and I were conversing a couple of minutes ago and they happened to tell me what you guys were up to," Jericho said, taking his sunglasses off and putting them momentarily on top of his head. "I thought it all sounded pretty exciting in itself, but then I decided to add my own two cents to make it just that little bit more memorable."

"And what exactly would that be?" Kennedy asked dryly.

"Nothing too big," Jericho said with a shrug. "More specifically, a little scavenger hunt."

"What is this, some stupid college road trip?" Edge said in exasperation, dumping his last piece of luggage in the back and narrowly missing Carlito, who had remained inside. "And knowing you, Jericho, nothing's as simple or a little as you claim it to be. Why should we agree to this scavenger hunt??"

"Hey, our team did," Matt said, coming up to join them and hearing the tail end of Edge's statement. "Why, Edge, is a little added challenge too much for the so-called Ultimate Opportunist?"

"Don't you fucking mock me, Hardy Boy," Edge growled at him.

"Wait, what is this whole scavenger hunt thing going to entail?" Randy asked.

"Are you seriously considering this?" Carlito snapped at him from inside the SUV.

"Anything to get these chumps to stop smirking at us," Randy said, gesturing to Matt, Cena and Jericho. "So how is this going to go?"

"Well I thought that as the twelve of you fine gentlemen race, my own associates and I would send you certain items to look for every hour on the hour," Jericho said.

"And who are these associates of yours?" Morrison asked.

At that the front windows of the sedan were rolled down to reveal the driver and the person in the passenger seat. "Hello, boys," Shawn Michaels greeted, grinning from ear to ear as Triple H took a sip from a bottle of water and held it up towards them in a mocking gesture.

"Oh this just keeps on getting better and better, doesn't it?" Miz moaned.

"Carlito almost doesn't want to ask this," Carlito began, looking at Jericho, "But why in the hell are you riding with the two of them?"

"Because they offered," Jericho said.

"Because he begged to," Triple H said at the same time.

"Hey," Jericho said, giving him an annoyed look. "You had an extra space and owed me a favor."

"I knew I would regret asking him to 'distract' Vince that one time we stole all his suits to dye bright green," Triple H muttered to Shawn.

"So what'll it be?" Cena finally asked, clapping his hands once to call everyone to a decision. "Aside from the race we'll have the scavenger hunt on the side. To win you have to be first AND have all the items for the hunt."

All six members of the 'heel' team looked at each other, more than a few doing so apprehensively. And then Edge gave a quick nod that was mimicked by the others and Kennedy turned to say, "All right, it's done. The scavenger hunt is on."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Jericho said, jerking his head down so that his sunglasses fell back to his face.

"Hey, here comes our last carpool member," Shawn said, checking out the rearview mirror.

Everyone turned to see Ric Flair coming over with Paul London, who was helping him with his luggage. "Whatever it is you guys are scheming about there, I've no doubt that I'm going to get suckered into it as this trip goes along," he said, as the trunk popped open and be began to load his bags into it. "And I don't think I was consulted when it was agreed that Jericho was going to ride with us."

"Christ, Ric, I'm hurt; and here I thought you liked me," Jericho said, not looking the least bit fazed.

Ric ignored his sarcasm and got into the back of the car. "Well, let's go."

"We'll cook up item one for the scavenger hunt and you'll receive it in exactly forty-five minutes," Jericho said, cocking a finger at them.

"See you boys on the road," Shawn called, and then gave a wave before the car drove off.

"And we'll be waiting for you guys in Tampa," Matt mockingly called to the 'heel' team as Cena, London and himself walked off to rejoin their own team.

"I think we just got majorly fucked," Miz commented when they were out of earshot.

"Let THEM think that," Kennedy said, throwing the map to Carlito. "Then it'll be doubly satisfying when we kick their ass and get to Tampa first. Come on, get in."

"Wait, we haven't settled who's driving first yet," Morrison said.

"I'm driving then!" Kennedy declared irately. "Now LET'S GO!"

And so, with their luggage secured and all members accounted for, both teams piled into their respective SUVs. Kennedy for the heels and CM Punk for the faces gunned the engines and they were off. Both vehicles screeched out of the parking lot and it was on towards Tampa!

**Cont'd**

How will the guys fare with the scavenger hunt now thrown into the mix? What kind of messed up stuff will Jericho and the others think up of them to get? How will the race fare in general? Is this shaping up to be bigger (and longer) than last time? Where were my obligatory nonsensical questions in the first chapter? All and more in the next part!


	3. Take One for the Team

I had trouble putting this chapter together (obviously; note horrendously long time between update dates), as I had planned the story over each item on the scavenger list. So basically it's a chapter per item. And with my obsession with painting as much detail into my stories, the chapters tend to get long. Exhibit A, this chapter.

Anyway, I'm going to be lazy and ask for help. I need suggestions on future unusual scavenger hunt items, as well as weird car games, and even anything you might be interested in seeing the guys get themselves into. As you get older you kind of lose a little crazy, and so I'm going to feed off you guys. So, with that shameless pleading out of the way, I hope you enjoy this length chapter, and pray future ones will come more easily.

Acknowledgements: The song 'If You Were Gay' was taken from the musical Avenue Q. There is a Krossfire Paintball Park and WinkeyDoodles Paintball Adventures at San Antonio and El Paso respectively, although these locations have no bearing to the story itself.

Date Uploaded: 08 February 2009

**Chapter 03: ****Take One for the Team**

"Punch buggy red!" PUNCH.

"OW! Goddamnit, Jeff, how many times have I told you that I'm not play—punch buggy green!" PUNCH. "No punch-backs!"

"OW!" Jeff exclaimed, rubbing his arm as Matt grinned back at him triumphantly. "I thought we weren't counting the new Beetles!" he argued.

"A Beetle's a Beetle, no matter how new and girly," Matt replied, settling back into his seat again.

Jeff had been deposited from the passenger seat early on in favor of Paul London, who seemed to be the most adept in deciphering the map, no matter how much he declined the dubious honor. As such Jeff had remained in the back with his brother, whom he seemed determined to annoy as much as possible, along with the rest of the guys. And Jeff, being Jeff, as much as possible equaled to a hell of a lot.

"Guys, come on, let's play a car game or something," Jeff pleaded as he chewed on a Tootsie Roll. "I'm bored out of my mind here."

"We're only half an hour into the road trip," London said to him.

"Jeff has the attention span of a hyperactive puppy," Matt offered not so helpfully as way of explanation.

"Hey!" Jeff protested, and then thought about it and nodded. "Actually, yeah, that sounds about right." He brightened a moment later and said, "I know, let's play Bizz Buzz!"

"I'm a little scared to ask this, but what the fuck is Bizz Buzz?" Cena asked.

"Hey I remember that; it's that car game where participants count off from one to whatever, only the numbers that are divisible by three are replaced with 'bizz' while numbers that are divisible by five are replaced with 'buzz'," Spanky said.

"That sounds like math," CM Punk groaned.

"The driver's always exempt from car games anyway," Jeff said.

"Lucky him," London muttered.

"I didn't think a game like that could hold Jeff's attention at all," Punk commented.

"Yeah, but in our home version whoever messes up gets slugged by the guy seated to his right," Matt said dryly.

"Ah, but the catch is that you have to be fast enough to slug the person to your left when he makes a mistake, or whoever's on YOUR right gets to slug you," Jeff said, grinning.

"I'm confused already," Cena said.

"It'll be fun!" Jeff said. "I'll start. One."

"Two," Matt said with a sigh, apparently giving in.

"Bizz," Cena said.

"Now you've got it," Spanky said with a nod. "Four."

"Buzz," London said quickly.

"Bizz," Punk said next.

"I thought we exempted you," Jeff said to him.

"So I'm bored too," Punk said with a shrug. "And it's your turn, dude."

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Ni—Bizz! Damn!" John Cena exclaimed, yanking his arm back just as Spanky was about to punch him. "Hey, I got that one!"

"All right, but you only get one freebie!" Spanky said to him. "Buzz."

"Eleven."

"Bizz," Punk said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Thirteen."

"Fourteen."

"Bizz," Cena said, to which Spanky leaned back and punched him right in the arm. "Ow! Fuck-damnit, I got that right, I said bizz!"

"Nah, you see, fifteen is divisible by BOTH three and five, so you're supposed to say 'Bizz-buzz'," Jeff explained.

"Well nobody fucking told me that before we started!" Cena snapped.

"Tough," Spanky said with a shrug, and then ducked as Cena lunged for him. "Hey, it's all part of the game! Sixteen!"

"Seventeen," London said.

"Eighteen," Punk mumbled as he changed lanes.

"Nine—shit, wait!" Jeff started, but by then Matt had already struck him on the shoulder, in the exact same place where he hit him during their earlier punch-buggy run. "I was getting to it!" he yelled at his brother.

"Too slow, little brother," Matt said with a grin. "You know the rules – you didn't get to Punk fast enough so I got to you."

"But doesn't the rule of NOT hitting the driver always trump that??" Jeff snapped.

"Not when the driver forfeits the rule by partaking in the game," London spoke up. Punk gave him a weird look and he shrugged, saying, "What? I played a lot of car games too when I was a kid."

"Quit being a sore loser, Jeff," Matt said, "Buzz." He suddenly looked down at the open laptop he had balanced on his thighs. "Speaking of buzzes, we just got an email from Jericho. Looks like the first item for the scavenger hunt is up."

"So what do they want us to get?" Punk asked.

Matt snickered, saying, "Get this…" and then began to read it out loud.

*******

And in the other SUV, Randy had been in the process of digging around the accumulated luggage in the hopes that he could find that burrito he had tucked away in the event that he got hungry. Well, he was hungry now, and cursing the fact that Carlito had dumped all his stuff on top of his. That was now most probably one squashed, damp burrito.

Instead, however, he pulled open a duffel bag to reveal assorted bottles and jars of hair products, a few flashy sunglasses and, most disturbingly, a pair of animal print thongs. Edge peeked over his shoulder and caught sight of them too. "Randy, what the fuck are those?"

"Hey, they're not mine!" Randy said defensively. "I opened this by accident."

It was then that John Morrison looked to his right and caught them peering at the curious garment. He let out a yelp, "Hey, what are you two doing going through my stuff??"

"Your stuff?" Edge said, taking out the thong and twirling it mockingly. "Wow, Morrison, I did have an inkling that you played left of center, but I didn't expect you to be so obvious about it."

"It's not what you're thinking; Melina gave me those for my last birthday as a joke!" Morrison said, trying to snatch the thong from him and missing.

"Why the fuck do I see you nimrods waving animal print thongs in the rearview mirror??" Kennedy demanded from the driver's seat, making Carlito turn around as well.

"Mr Morrison formerly Nitro has unwittingly revealed his passion in life," Edge joked.

Morrison reached over and finally grabbed the thong from him, stuffing it sulkily into his pocket. "I don't know why you're laughing," he snapped at a giggling Randy, "The little Speedos you wear to the ring aren't much better."

"Anything that covers the cheeks are better," Randy said, "And at least I never look like I skinned a cheetah in order to parade around like a gay Tarzan."

Edge shook his head, laughing, and then turned to Miz. "Hey, you're with him like twenty-four sevens, is this a normal enough thing?"

"Pretty much," Miz said, much to Morrison's irritation. "It's suspicious, but he gets a little antsy when I try to bring it up."

"Oh God, now he's going to sing the fucking song…" Morrison groaned, putting his head in his hands.

The Miz then went on to demonstrate the fact that he had possibly seen Avenue Q one too many times for his tag team partner's liking. He draped his arms on the seat in front of him and playfully started to sing, "If you were gay, that'd be okay/ I mean, 'cause hey! I like you AAA-ny-WAYYY…"

"Damnit, Miz, shut up," Morrison groaned.

"Because you see, if it were ME," Miz went right on, ignoring him, "I would feel FREE to say that I was gay – But I'm not gay."

"Someone shut him up!" Kennedy called.

"If you were queer, I'd still be here/ Year after YEAR, because you're DEARRR to ME!/ And I know that you will accept me TOO!/ If I told you today, 'Hey, guess what? I'm GAY!/ But I'm not gay."

"Jesus Christ…" Kennedy muttered as he changed lanes and sped up.

"I'm HAPPEEE just being with YOUUU!" Miz continued, "So what would it matter to me what you do in bed with guys?"

A collective cry of disgust came from his unimpressed audience, with Randy saying, "Fuck, Miz, that's gross!"

This caused Miz to quickly reply, "No it's not!"

"Holy shit, I'm sorry I brought it up," Edge said.

"If you were gay, I'd shout HOORAY!/ And here I'd stay, and never get in your way," Miz sang gleefully, somehow unaware of the look of deep loathing that Morrison shot in his direction. "You can count on me to ALWAYS BEEE/ Beside you everyday/ To tell you it's okay/ You were just born that way/ And as they say it's in your DNA/ YOU'RE GAYYY…!!"

"How many times do I have to fucking tell you??" Morrison blew up, turning around to grab Miz by the collar and yelling in his face. "I'm NOT GAY!"

"If you were gay," Miz said calmly.

At that Morrison began to shake his tag team partner roughly, while Randy and Edge scrambled to keep them from beating the shit out of each other. The ensuing chaos caused Kennedy to nearly miss seeing the blue Odyssey that seemed to come out of nowhere on his right, and he let out a curse as he yanked the steering wheel left to avoid hitting the other vehicle. There was a blare of horns from a few other cars as Kennedy fought to keep the SUV under control.

"Hey, knock it off, both of you!" Carlito yelled at the squabbling partners.

"He fucking started it!" Morrison yelled childishly.

"And I'm going to end it if you two don't shut up!" Edge told them.

"We're barely an hour into this damn road trip and we've nearly gotten ourselves killed already!" Kennedy roared. "Unless any of you schmucks have anything helpful to say, sit down and shut the hell up!"

At that point there was a chime from the laptop that was with Carlito. The Puerto Rican looked at it. "We've got mail," he announced, "And it's from Jericho and the rest of his group."

"Oh here we go," Edge groaned. "What does it say?"

Carlito scanned the email. "Oh shit…" he said, before reading it out loud.

*******

The email said:

Hey Assclowns

Here's hoping that you haven't deposited any annoying carpool members out on the side of the road. Yet. Hey, you're barely an hour into this thing; get bonding and the higher your chances will be of surviving the trip and each other. It's sound advice given by Ric – I personally don't get it, but maybe it'll work for you guys.

Anyway, since this is the first of a long list of items for this scavenger hunt, we decided to make it easy for you guys. Numero uno on the list is this: A Paintball Splattered WWE Shirt. Any WWE shirt will do, whether it be referee stripes, toon Carlito, old school gaming Cena, or even a vintage Hulkamania shirt I use to blow my nose. The catch is that one member of each team has to be WEARING the shirt while it gets fired upon.

Oh, and we'll need pictures/videos of the process. For, uh, determining that it was done according to the given rules. Yeah, that's right. So get cracking.

From the Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla

*******

"Wait, someone has to be wearing the goddamn shirt while it gets pelted with paintballs?" the Miz repeated, as if to clarify the point for himself.

"NOT IT!" Kennedy, Carlito, Orton, Morrison and Edge immediately called out.

"Damnit!!" Miz exclaimed, throwing his hat onto the floor in frustration. "Why do I always get caught with that shit??"

"Because you're too slow, that's why," Morrison said to him with a grin, before tossing him one of his Chick Magnet shirts. "Here you go; don on your not so impenetrable armor."

"Now to find a paintball park," Kennedy murmured.

"Take the next left," Carlito said, already having checked the laptop.

*******

In the other van, there was less of a quandary as to who would get the unenviable job of procuring the paintball-splattered shirt, as once Matt had finished reading the email Jeff eagerly asked, "Ooh, ooh, can I be the guy who wears the shirt?"

"Absolutely, Jeff," Matt replied.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" London inquired.

"Hey, it beats having one of us do it, and with any luck Jeff will get some of that sugar-filled rush out of his system," Matt said logically.

Jeff, for his part, was already digging around in his bag and presently unearthed one of his Hardyz Xtreme T-shirts. "Woohoo, let's do this!" he shouted.

The laptop was passed to London and he quickly looked up the nearest paintball park. "Hang a right at the next set of traffic lights," he said to Punk, who complied.

*******

Upon reaching the Krossfire Paintball Park, Kennedy, Orton and Edge were left at the SUV to presumably map out the rest of their trip and keep an eye out if ever the other group showed up, while Morrison and Carlito lugged an apprehensive Miz into the front building.

"Good morning, sirs," a chirpy teenager with freckles and strawberry-blonde hair greeted them. She was supporting wide grin, a red cap with the Krossfire logo on it, and a nameplate that said 'Casey'. "Will all of you be playing a game today?"

"Uh, no, actually, it's just our friend here," Morrison said, shoving Miz in front of him. "And it's not really a game per se..."

Carlito leaned over the counter and asked, "Carlito wants to know how much and how quickly it would take to push this guy in the middle of the crossfire and get him covered in paint."

Casey's grin mellowed into a perplexed look. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't think I quite follow... you just want your friend to get shot at with paintballs?"

"Yeah, that's right," Carlito said impatiently, drumming his fingers on the countertop. "You take credit cards, right? Morrison, give her yours."

"You have really thick protective gear, right?" Miz inquired with a wince, even as Morrison balked at Carlito, who simply motioned for him to take out his wallet.

"Um..." Casey, although still looking confused, checked her computer for a moment and said, "The entry fee for anybody with their own equipment is $11.00. He doesn't have his own equipment but he won't be using anything in turn, but I'm afraid I can't charge you anything lower than that fixed price."

"Goddamnit," Morrison muttered, digging out his wallet. "Fine, but I better be reimbursed for this."

Upon arriving at the changing rooms, it was soon discovered that it was impossible to fit Miz's shirt over any of the protective gear that the park had on offer. "Then go without them," Carlito finally said impatiently.

"What??" Miz exclaimed, looking bewildered. "You do realize that paint pellets, small and made of paint as they are, hurt like a bitch when being shot straight at you, right??"

"Quit being a baby, suck it up and take one for the team," Carlito said, looking unimpressed.

"Fine, but this is the ONLY TIME I'm sticking my neck out like this!" Miz declared, rather foolishly as they were only a little over an hour into the road trip. He sullenly stalked out of the changing rooms and prepared to enter the open park.

Morrison and Carlito accompanied him to the gates. "Now forget about ducking and weaving; if someone takes aim you wave and take it like Kennedy, all right?" Morrison instructed.

Miz gave him a horrified look. "I don't even know how to respond to that," he said, and then his tag team partner pushed him through the gates. Miz gave him and Carlito the finger before he ventured out carefully.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, depending how one looked upon the circumstances, there was a rather big game going on. A boy had just turned sixteen and decided to spend the day co-op killing his friends with other friends. Miz stepped onto the scene and a boy called out, "Hey you, what the hell are you doing?? Get off the field if you're not playing!"

"I'm in... kinda!" Miz responded.

"So where in the hell is your gear... and your rifle??"

"Good question!" Miz said, and then turned to where Carlito and Morrison were watching safely behind a chain link fence. "Why did I not get a fucking rifle??"

"Because you're not there to play, you're there to get shot at, you idiot!" Carlito yelled back at him, already training his digital camera on him.

"Kid, will you please shoot him!" Morrison yelled at the boy.

It was a questionable demand, but when you're sixteen and holding a paintball rifle in your hand, there wasn't much room for common sense – anything sounded good. "Ookay..." the boy said with a shrug, and then took aim and fired.

Miz took the hit right in the abdomen, and he fell backwards with a groan, red paint on the front of his Chick Magnet shirt. "Pain," he coughed out, and then stirred and asked his companions, "There, I got fucking shot; that's going to leave a gigantic welt tomorrow. Can we go now?"

"Well, the email said 'paintball-splattered'," Morrison reminded him. "I think you're going to have to take a couple more."

At that moment one of the boy's friends and teammates ran up. "Dude, did you just shoot a civilian?" he asked, astounded.

"They asked me to," Boy 1 said, gesturing to Carlito and Morrison.

Boy 2 looked at them, raised an eyebrow, and then turned to stare critically at Miz, who by then was stumbling to his feet. "Fuck, is that Miz?"

"That's right, kid," Carlito called to him. "Could you do us a favor and get you and your friends to cover him in paint?"

Once again it was a dubious request, but Boy 2 was even less of a ponderer than his friend and immediately said, "Hell yeah! Hey guys, quit with the game for a while! We get to take out a WWE wrestler!"

As the field echoed with, cries of, "What?" and, "For real??" Miz was horrified to see a bunch of teenagers previously in hiding suddenly poke their heads out from behind bushes, trees and other strategically placed terrain items. There had to be at least a dozen of them, and, he noted, they were all wearing adequate protective gear. And then it seemed that as one they levied their rifles on him and fired.

Morrison actually covered his eyes while Carlito winced as Miz took a startling number of shots that left him down for the count. "Is it over?" Morrison asked.

"I think so," Carlito said, trying to get a good look, the camera still recording. "Shit, I don't think he's moving."

It was then that another park employee wandered up to see what all the shouting was about. He let out an expletive and cried, "Is that guy not wearing any protective gear??"

"Yeah," Carlito affirmed with a nod. "Carlito thinks we're about done here. So, ah, could you get him out of there now?"

With the employee muttering worriedly about possible liability implications while he hurried through the gates, Carlito watched as Miz finally stirred and lifted a red and blue arm. Satisfied that he would live, Carlito stopped the recording. They had their first item; it was time to get back on the road.

*******

Meanwhile, the members of the other team had pulled up to WinkeyDoodles Paintball Adventures, a different paintball park located around a mile away. Once the SUV had come to a stop, Jeff jumped out eagerly and was running to the park entrance before anybody could call after him, already pulling the soon to be desecrated t-shirt on.

"Jeff! JEFF! Goddamnit, wait for us!" Matt screamed after his brother. "We need to—oh, shit, he's gone."

"Sugar is the only thing he's on, right?" Spanky asked uncertainly, to which Matt gave a weary shrug.

"Dude, we need to catch him before he plunges headfirst into somebody else's game," Cena said.

"Wow, John, concerned?" Punk asked, amused.

"No, we need to record the damned thing for proof, remember??" Cena said, grabbing Spanky's camera out of the blonde's hand and then running after the hyperactive Hardy Boy.

When Cena and the others arrived at the front counter, they found Jeff digging in his pockets as a slightly bemused clerk attended to him. "Guys, what took you so long? I can't seem to find my wallet... did I leave it in your pants, Matt?"

"Why would your wallet be in my pants?" his brother asked.

"I dunno, I figured I'd ask," Jeff said with a shrug. "Ah well, the only thing that's worth anything in there is my Frequent Slushie customer card."

London went up to the clerk and asked, "Our friend here wants to get in on a game that's already in session, is that possible?"

"Wouldn't you like to join him?" the clerk asked, peering curiously out from behind blue-tinted glasses.

"Oh trust me, he's more than enough," Punk said.

"We're taking too long; you guys straighten everything out while I go and get ready!" Jeff said, and then sped off again, presumably in search of the locker rooms, without warning.

"Fuck-damnit, JEFF!" Matt called, and he and Spanky chased off after him.

London took the cue to negotiate with the clerk, helped by both Cena and Punk to somewhat candidly explain why they needed Jeff to go in and come out preferably covered in gooey paint. "I see..." she said, nodding, although it was clear that she was a little weirded-out. "Well, I can allow him entry into the park for $14.50; there's a game going on with another group and he should be able to get what he needs done there."

"That's excellent," London said.

It was at that point that Jeff ran back into view. "Shirt wouldn't fit over protective gear!" he called to the others still at the counter. "I'm going in without it! Woohoo!" and then he was out of view again, Spanky and Matt still comically chasing after him, Spanky only pausing to catch his camera as Cena threw it back to him.

London turned back to the clerk, who now looked worried. He asked, "Is there some sort of waiver that we can sign to absolve the park of any self-injuries caused by his own stupidity?"

Meanwhile Jeff had reached the field area and, without waiting to be permitted inside by the pimply-faced teen manning the section, pushed right into the field. A game was indeed going on between some pre-teens who were giggling, laughing and generally having a good time. Matt took the startled employee aside to placate him while Spanky was left to record Jeff inside the field. Presently, however, Spanky gave a yell, "Matt, Jesus Christ, you have to see this!"

"What??" Matt asked, running over, just as Cena, London and Punk arrived too. All of them watched, flabbergasted, as Jeff ran around on his questionably high, ducking behind objects and dodging miraculously well, all the while firing shots of his own. In fact, he was taking out most of the poor kids who had suddenly found themselves in a warzone with a crazed, rainbow-haired commando. Matt groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Whose idea was it to give him a rifle?" Cena asked.

"We never gave him anything; he snatched it from a kid the moment he got inside," Spanky said.

"We're not going to get that scavenger hunt item at this rate!" Punk said, exasperated.

"Hello, what about the kids?" London reminded, pointing to where one of them had begun to wail.

"Yeah, that too," Punk said, nodding dismissively. "Here, I have an idea, follow me," he said, pushing the door open. The others quickly followed, despite pleadings from the hapless employee at the gate.

Punk kept low, and then reached the kid who had been bawling. Consoling her quickly, he got her to give him her rifle and her helmet. Cena took a gun from another kid who had been rooted behind a crate in fear. Punk motioned to Matt and London, who both nodded and crept as close as they could to a still madly firing Jeff Hardy. Punk chucked the helmet he had taken from the girl into view, and as he predicted Jeff turned and fired at it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Matt rushed out and tackled his brother to the ground, wherein London also jumped out and wrestled the rifle out of his hands.

"What the fuck are you guys doing??" Jeff screamed. "I had them, I had them!"

"Yeah, you did, but that wasn't the fucking point, now was it?" Cena said to him.

"I think all that registered in his head from the email was 'paintball'," Matt said, punching his brother in the side and pinning his arms down. "You guys ready?"

"Ready," Spanky said, training his camera on Jeff.

"Wait, ready for what??" Jeff asked.

Instead of answering, Matt abruptly let go of his brother. Immediately Punk, Cena and London, using Jeff's own rifle no less, fired right onto the prone Hardy Boy. Jeff let out a howl and tried to scramble away, but a few more shots finally brought him down in a groaning, crumpled, green and orange heap.

Spanky stopped recording and gave a big grin all around. "We got it, guys, let's pick him up and go."

"We may have to think of picking up some sedatives as we go along, though," Matt commented as they went to collect Jeff.

And with the first item down, the race continued.

**Cont'd**

And with item one down, following injuries and potential lawsuits, the race gets real! How are both Miz and Jeff faring, following taking one, or even two dozen for the team? What is Jeff really on? Do we really want to know? Does Morrison actually bat for the other team? Do we really want to know that either? What will the next item on the list be? That one's up to you guys! So, all that and a scary load more in the next chapter!


	4. Little Spandex Briefs

A few apologies regarding this chapter, and not just because of the fact that it's very, very late; I spent a hell of a lot of time on the fallout from the last chapter, random conversations and pre-scavenger hunt item discussions. As such the space reserved for the scavenger hunt item itself was scrunched up quickly at the very end. Once again, my apologies.

Another note – I know nothing about football. Just want to put it out there before anybody who is knowledgeable reads through this chapter.

Thanks go out to Esha Napoleon, who came up with the scavenger hunt item for this chapter of the story!

Acknowledgements: The song 'Guy Love' was taken from Scrubs (Season 6, Episode 6, 'My Musical'). The Houston Cougars and the Louisiana-Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns are property of their respective owners.

Date Uploaded: 26 May 2009

**Chapter 04: Little Spandex Briefs**

In the parking lot of WinkeyDoodles Paintball Adventures, Jeff Hardy was seated at the door of his team's SUV while Maria Kanellis wiped his arms and face down with Handi Wipes. Maria and the rest of her carpool buddies had driven by about ten minutes prior, evidently lost, and had happened upon them. After being briefed quickly on what had happened, the rest of the girls opted to giggle while Maria felt sorry for the sullen Jeff and had gone to see if she could help clean him up. Green and orange paint tended to be rather hard to get rid of using only a few wipes, but she was doing her best, and Jeff usually didn't have a problem being covered with copious amounts of paint anyway.

The younger Hardy Boy currently did have a problem with the rest of his teammates, and he sulkily said, "You know you guys could have just talked me into calming down, instead of brutally attacking me and taking me out."

"Jeff, you popped off a twelve-year old girl when her back was turned to you and made her cry," London pointed out. "You were out of control."

"That was only after she tried to take me out like some sort of little ninja sniper!" Jeff defended. "You saw it, right Spanky??"

Spanky was saved from replying when Matt aired out the freshly coated Hardyz Xtreme shirt that Jeff had been wearing. He held it up and grinned. "I think that'll serve its purpose." He then frowned and said, "I'm kind of apprehensive as to what Jericho will ask for next, though."

"Well considering you asked one of the biggest assholes of professional wrestling, and that's when he's being nice, along with D-freakin'-X to arrange your scavenger hunt, it could be positively anything," Mickie said not-so-helpfully.

"And you practically have your first casualty already," Michelle McCool commented, gesturing to Jeff.

Jeff groaned and examined his bare torso, which was already beginning to show the first signs of bruising. "I'm going to look like a tree in autumn by the time this trip ends," he observed astutely.

"Hey guys, come on, we have to hit the road again or those douchebags on the other team might overtake us," Punk reminded everyone.

At that moment a graphite-colored Toyota Kluger sped by on the main road. It screeched to a halt, backed up quickly and rather dangerously, and then the horn blared loudly as the windows were rolled down. "What's up, bitches??" Miz yelled out mockingly, parts of his body still colored red and blue.

"You guys better get your asses in gear if you're going to catch up to us!" Randy called out.

"Later losers!" Morrison hooted, and then the SUV tires gave a squeal as the vehicle careened off again, Miz's paint-covered Chick Magnet shirt visible in the back window.

"Shit!" Jeff exclaimed, standing up abruptly and knocking Maria to the ground in the process. "We can't let those assholes take the lead! Come on, we have to get back on the road!"

"Well that brought some life back into him," Mickie said, helping Maria to her feet.

"A little too much," Spanky grumbled, unwrapping a Snickers bar. Jeff promptly grabbed it from him before he could take a bite. "Hey!"

Matt sighed as Spanky scrambled into the backseat with Jeff and the two of them began to scuffle over the candy bar. "Well thanks for the help, girls, looks like we're off again. Come on, Punk, I'll take over driving for now."

"See you at Tampa, ladies!" Cena called as he climbed into the middle seats with CM Punk. "Or, if things go really bad, you'll get a call from us to pick up a naked Spanky in the middle of the I-10."

"Wait, what??" Spanky exclaimed, allowing Jeff to elbow him in the gut and wrench the candy bar away from him again.

The divas waved as the guys pulled out of the parking lot and then headed off after the other team as fast as Matt's perennially harried driving skills, not to mention the speed limit, would allow. It was then that Kelly Kelly asked, "Hey, so, did anybody get to ask them directions on how to get back onto the I-45?"

There was a moment of silence as Maria blinked, Ashley turned crimson and Michelle bit her bottom lip. And then Mickie let out a loud groan and yelled, "SHIT!"

*******

If Team Face had known that Team Heel had technically taken a wrong turn themselves, they probably wouldn't have rushed off so abruptly. This was largely in part due to Randy Orton, who had taken over Carlito's navigating duties while the Pacesetter of Cool was helping Morrison in getting the Miz to regain full consciousness. Following their exit from Krossfire Paintball Park, Carlito and Morrison had ripped the ruined t-shirt off their companion, much to the surprise of onlookers, and then fairly flung him into the backseat of the SUV. As Kennedy gunned it, Carlito and Morrison went about slapping Miz back into full consciousness.

"You know, if you add a couple of white stars and stripes, we could strap him to the top of the SUV and he could serve as a living flag," Edge said.

"I'm awake now," Miz had snapped irritably, and then moaned as he clutched his torso. "I feel like I just got tenderized."

"What do you mean we took a wrong turn??" Kennedy then yelled from the driver's seat.

"Relax, will you?" Randy said back. "Just go down this road and we can take a different route!"

And that was about the time when they passed the other team. It was Edge who let out an exclamation and pointed them out, to which Kennedy hurriedly backed up and Miz came to life so that they could taunt their opponents. And then they had taken off again.

"Well at least now we know exactly where the other team is," Morrison said.

"Yeah, like two minutes behind us," Edge said. "We've got to widen the gap."

Out of the blue the Miz groaned again and lay down on the backseat, practically putting his head on Morrison's lap, causing his tag team partner to jostle him off irritably. "Seriously, dudes, I thought I was all right, but it's like my insides have turned into mush. And look, I'm starting to bruise already!"

"Oh suck it up, would you?" Kennedy said, annoyed. "It looked like Jeff was the one who took the challenge for his team and he didn't look like he was dead to the world – he was just sitting there."

"Actually, Jeff 'sitting there' is the equivalent of a coma for normal people," Edge spoke up. "If he's not bouncing around like a cricket then he's not feeling too good."

At that Miz gave another groan. Randy turned around in his seat impatiently and said, "It's hard to concentrate when you're making that noise that sounds like a cow being sent through a meat packer."

"Oh I'm sorry, then maybe we can switch places; I'll be the crappy navigator while you sit in the back and be the one in pain," Miz snapped at him.

"That was one lousy turn I didn't call!" Randy defended himself.

"Which cost us our wide lead; why don't you give the laptop back to Carlito before you hurt yourself?" Carlito said to him.

"All right, guys, that's it!" Edge suddenly exclaimed, making everybody turn to him, with the exception of Kennedy, who glanced at him briefly through the rear view mirror. "Now those guys in the other SUV may be morons who have a hyperactive adrenaline junkie and a guy who can't control his bladder, but I'm willing to bet that they're a much closer knit group than we are. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to lose to those fuckwits just because the six of us can't function as a cohesive unit."

"Are you going to make a point, Edge-ward, or is that the extent of your pseudo-motivational speech?" Kennedy said bitingly.

"I was coming to my point," Edge retorted. "We have to work together in order to beat the other team. And in order for that to happen we have to… get along."

There was a moment of silence as everybody in the vehicle contemplated this. None of the guys could ever claim to be the best friend of the person sitting next to them, with the possible exception of Miz and Morrison, and even they squabbled half the time. The silence was further extended when one by one the guys realized that Edge was right – for the sake of the race, they would have to make an effort to get along with each other.

"Are we agreed?" Edge presently asked.

"Agreed," Randy sighed, and everybody else mumbled an affirmative. "So what do we do now? Share kisses and paint each other's toes as a bonding exercise?" the WWE Champion couldn't resist saying sarcastically.

"Nothing that drastic," his Smackdown counterpart said in exasperation. "All right, I have a suggestion, and it's going to be horrible, but it worked for La Familia when we once went for a group counseling session."

"La Familia went to a counseling session?" Carlito commented, a wide grin spreading on his face.

"It's not as funny as you think, so shut up," Edge snapped. "One of the first things we did to bond with each other was to turn to the person on our right and say one good thing about him."

Morrison looked at him, horrified. "You're not suggesting that we do the same here, are you?"

"No man, I'm suggesting that you put on those animal print thongs and give Orton a lap dance," Edge said derisively. "Of course I'm saying we should try the bonding exercise."

"That's a totally shitty idea," Kennedy immediately said.

"I know being nice is a stretch for all of us here, but I'm willing to try anything that might help. Fine, I'll even go first," Edge volunteered. The turned around to face Morrison. "You, uh, wear those sunglasses and sideburns just as well as I do, if not better."

"Hey, thanks, man," Morrison said, looking surprised at the compliment. He then looked at his tag team partner, who gave him an expectant grin. He sighed. "All right, I concede that when it comes to tag team partners, you are definitely the one I like best."

"Yes, I knew it!" Miz said, pumping a fist in the air.

"That's not saying much," Randy snickered.

"Hey, no snide comments!" Edge quickly admonished.

Miz cleared his throat and said to Carlito, "You're cool. Seriously – anybody who's managed to make out with both Trish Stratus and Torrie Wilson in the space of two months is cool with the Miz. Hey, us chick magnets got to stick together, right?"

"Right…" Carlito said, raising an eyebrow. He then looked at Randy, and then winced as he said to Edge, "Do we really have to do this?"

"Yes," Edge said firmly.

"Dig deep, man," Miz said to him.

"I heard that, fucktard," Randy growled at him.

Carlito scratched his head and then apparently came up with something to say. "I suppose a guy with mediocre talent would never have been able to hold on to that belt for as long as you have."

"You bitch; in no way, shape or form was that a compliment," Randy barked at him.

"Hey, take it or leave it, _cabron_," Carlito shot back.

"Take it, Randy, for now," Edge cut in before another fight could start. "Let's keep going."

Randy turned to Mr Kennedy. "Hey man, it could have been worse – you could have really been a McMahon."

Kennedy took his eyes off the road momentarily to frown at him. "That's the best you could do?"

"He's RKO'd a ninety-year-old woman, Kennedy – nice isn't exactly flowing through his bloodstream," Miz called out.

Kennedy shook his head. "All right then, Edge – You've got the ruthless and cunning to get to the top, and what's more you have the smarts to stay there. It's actually inspiring, man."

Edge blinked. "Wow, Kennedy, that's really big of you to admit."

"Yeah, and since I'm feeling particularly generous here's an extra warning: I still owe you HUGE payback for stealing the Money in the Bank briefcase from me. Not to mention having to watch you and Vickie Guerrero eat each other's faces on a weekly basis," Kennedy followed up.

"You guys are a bunch of fucking tools, especially you, Kennedy," Edge immediately snapped, apparently forgoing the supportive environment he had been trying to foster until now.

"Aw, and to think we were starting to feel the love," Miz snickered.

The laptop with Randy suddenly chimed. "Yeah, well, the love is well and truly over," he said, and then he began to read the second email from Chris Jericho and his companions.

*******

In the other vehicle, a different type of bonding was going on as the conversation had bafflingly turned to how close the connections were between the two tag teams in the group. "Dude, Matt and I are brothers," Jeff said. "There's no closer bond than that."

"Oh sure, because at no point in wrestling history have the team of two brothers ever imploded," London said dryly.

"Hey, Matt and I are TIGHT," Jeff insisted. "Just last week he lied to a cop for me."

"You did what?" Punk asked Matt, looking at him incredulously.

"Jeff was pulled over for speeding and I told the police officer that he had a medical emergency – he had tried a new kind of dye and the chemicals in his hair were seeping into his brain," Matt narrated, expressionless. "She wrote him the ticket anyway. Go figure."

"Hey, still, it was the thought that counted, bro," Jeff called to him. "Next time let's try for a better lie though, huh?"

"I guess no amount of hair coloring can dye the blonde outta this guy," Cena quipped, smirking.

"I can still distinguish an insult, Rip Van Winkle," Jeff said pointedly. He then turned back to Spanky and said, "So what about you and London, then?"

"We're close," Spanky said nonchalantly. "We may not be brothers, but we love each other."

There was a moment of silence as their other four teammates processed that. "Uh, I just wanted to clarify... did you just say that you love each other?" Punk asked.

"Don't give us that look just because we're man enough to admit it. There's nothing wrong with guy love," Spanky defended. And then, much to the stupefaction of the already bewildered four, the tag team of Paul London and Brian Kendrick actually launched into a duet.

"_Guy love_/_That's all it is_," they sang together in unison, "_Guy love_/_He's mine, I'm his_/_There's nothing gay about it in our eyes_..."

London crooned, "_You ask me 'bout this thing we share_..."

And Spanky sang, "_And he tenderly replies_..."

"_It's guy love_..."

"_Between two guys_," they crooned together.

Punk cautiously leaned over to quietly ask John Cena, "Are you as creeped out as I am right about now?"

"If it goes on for another minute I might be," Cena replied, watching London and Spanky with a mixture of fascination and horror.

London continued: "_We're closer than the average man and wife_."

"_That's why our matching bracelets say 'Spanky and Paul'_!" Spanky intoned.

"_You know I'll stick by for the rest of my life_!" London sang.

"Are any of you going to shut them up or am I going to have to drive into a tree to do it??" Matt snapped from the driver's seat.

"Aw Matt, don't be like that," London said.

Spanky went on: "_Just let it grow more and more each day_/_It's like I married my best friend_..."

"_But in a totally MANLY way_!" London sang out with gusto.

"Let's go!" And then they both sang, "_It's guy love_/_Don't compromise_/_The feeeeling of some other guy_/_Holding up your heart_/_Into the sky_."

London reached out for his partner and sang, "_I'll be there to care through all the lows_."

Spanky held his hand out too, causing Punk to dodge to one side, "_I'll be there to share the highs_."

And together: "_It's guy love_/_Between two guys_."

"Yup, now I'm officially creeped out," Cena declared.

"_And when I say, 'I love you, Paul,'_/_It's not what it impliiiees_..." Spanky crooned.

And then they both softly sang their close: "_It's guy love... Between... Two... Guys_..."

"Please tell me it's over," Punk pleaded.

Jeff had been suspiciously quiet the entire time, and once the incredibly uncomfortable duet had finished it was evident why. The younger Hardy brother let out a sniffle, rubbed his eyes and said, "That was beautiful, man. Matt, how come we don't sing to each other like that??"

"On second thought, throw him out along with the first two!" Matt yelled.

"Wait, wait, we might need them!" Cena said, looking at the laptop that he had taken from London earlier. "Jericho's next scavenger item just came through," he said, and then began to read it out loud.

*******

The email said:

What's up, Jerkies?

You didn't sustain any major injuries from the last scavenger hunt challenge, right? Not that I'm genuinely concerned, but Shawn suggested that I enquire about your wellbeing in order to be more personable. In truth I don't give two shits if someone got a testicle blown off. So suck it up. Wait, wrong choice of words there… gah.

But moving on, now that you've presumably obtained a paintball-splattered WWE t-shirt, here's item two: Find a college football game currently in session and get two cheerleaders to fork over their uniforms. Hold on, there's more; two members of each team must then don on the uniforms and cheer for the rest of the game. Bonus points if your respective team then wins. Add the uniforms to the scavenger hunt items afterwards.

And once again we require video/photographic proof of the deed. So kick up those legs – Gimme a Y! Gimme a 2! Gimme a J!

Y2J Out!

*******

"You're joking, right??" Morrison exclaimed once Randy was finished.

"Yeah, the last thing Carlito wants is to see any of you guys in a skirt," Carlito said.

"NOT IT!" the Miz declared loudly, obviously not wanting to get stuck doing it by the same mistake that had taken in him for the previous challenge.

"Nah, I don't think that's going to cut it now," Kennedy said, gripping the steering wheel. "Jericho and the others are going to demand progressively worse shit as we go along – we've got to find a more practical way of picking who has to go and do these scavenger hunt challenges."

"Already on it," Edge said, having gone about writing their names on strips of paper. He folded them up, grabbed Miz's hat off his head and then dropped them in. He pulled out two names and, with a look of dread, opened them up and read them out. "So the ones who will be doing high kicks in little skirts are... Randy and John."

"NO!!" Morrison howled.

"I demand a do-over!" Randy cried out.

"No such thing," Edge said, although that was mostly because he was relieved that he hadn't pulled out his name. "So let's find out if there's a game going on somewhere near here."

*******

Once Cena had finished reading the email, Punk said, "I vote that the two guys just professing manly love to each other undertake this one."

"What? Hey!" London cried indignantly, Spanky suddenly turning pale in the back. "Why us??"

"Two words, man: Guy love," Cena said, grinning at them. "Plus the fact that out of all of us, the two of you would be the least vomit-inducing in skirts."

"Aw c'mon, Cena, don't sell yourself short; you'd look pretty in a skirt," Jeff teased.

"Shut up, Hardy Boy, or I'll vote that you and Matt have to do this cheerleader shit," Cena said to him.

"Wait, WHAT??" Matt exclaimed, avoiding a car that was overtaking them. "How did I get suckered into this??"

"All right, let's vote then," Punk said, calling them to order. "Who thinks Spanky and London should do it?"

Matt and Punk immediately raised their hands, followed by Cena. Matt caught Jeff actually contemplating his decision in the rear view mirror and yelled out to his brother, "Jeff, so help me, if you do not vote on those guys I will come back there to beat the shit out of you!"

And Jeff knew he would too, driving or not. He sighed and said, "Oh fine, but I thought it would have been a good bonding moment for the two of us," and then he raised his hand too, bringing the vote to four against two.

"You guys are shits," London grumbled at them.

"Yeah, whatever, let's hope you shaved your legs this morning," Cena said as Matt stepped on the gas.

*******

The only game happening closest within the driving vicinity that day happened to be between the Houston Cougars and the Louisiana-Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns. Kennedy pulled his team's SUV into the parking lot and they all got out, although Edge and Carlito did have to half-shove Morrison and Randy out of the vehicle. From there Randy once again opened his mouth in a last-ditch effort to save Morrison and himself from total humiliation, but Miz wasn't having it and began to sing Nine Inch Nails' 'Closer' at the top of his lungs in order to drown him out.

"For God's sake, let's just do this if it'll get him to shut up!" Morrison finally roared, grabbing Randy by the arm and pulling him into the stadium.

Just as the six of them disappeared into the building, the sandstone colored Kluger screeched into the parking lot, courtesy of Matt Hardy. The doors opened and the face team jumped out, London pausing to do one last run with the electric shaver on his two-day stubble (Because as Jeff had so helpfully pointed out, "Dude, cheerleaders don't have facial hair.") before turning the device off and throwing it back into the car. They made their way into the building as well.

"Okay, so how are we going to do this?" Punk asked the moment they entered, hoping to form a competent battle plan.

"Well first we have to locate some cheerleaders… which may be the most pleasant part of this entire trip, so suck it up now," Cena commented, looking around.

Jeff, in the meantime, had broken away from the group, taking it upon himself to go up to one of the food stand vendors and ask, "Hey, could you tell me where the cheerleaders' dressing rooms are?"

"I'm sorry, what?" the man asked, giving him a perplexed look.

"Whoa, Jeff!" Matt cried, running over to pull his brother away. "What have I said in the past about subtlety?"

"That I ought to look up the meaning or you'll bean me over the head with a dictionary," Jeff answered.

"And clearly you didn't."

"No, but you're not holding one at the moment either so it's all good."

"All right, the Hardy and Hardy show is very entertaining," Punk snapped, making all of his team mates turn to him. "But right now we have to fucking hustle and locate some godforsaken cheerleaders," he stated, just as behind him a group of girls in blue and white uniforms, clearly for the Louisiana-Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns, with matching pompoms walked by. The other five watched them go, prompting Punk to ask, "What??"

Spanky pointed. Punk turned to look and remarked, "Oh. Well, that was easy."

"Let's go," Cena said, beginning to walk over.

"Right," London said, and as the rest followed he and Spanky discreetly tried to sneak away, only to be thwarted when the Hardys each grabbed one of their arms and pulled them along.

Meanwhile, in the heel team, Edge had lucked out and found a member of the stadium's security that was also a fan. Said fan managed to get them to the actual dressing room of the Houston Cougars' cheerleaders. There they were heard out by two leggy blondes who gave them skeptical looks once the team told them what they wanted.

"So let me get this straight," the one on the left who introduced herself as Ashley said, "You want to take our cheerleading uniforms, get your two friends to wear them, allow them to cheer for our team, and then take the uniforms when you leave?"

"That's it in a nutshell," Edge said, nodding.

"May we ask why?" the one on the left who claimed to be called Chloe asked.

"Sexual perversion," the Miz answered with a straight face.

"NO! No, nothing like that, of course," Edge said, forcing a laugh as both Randy and Morrison elbowed the Miz roughly. "Nothing like that. It's a dare of sorts that we're undertaking. It may sound like juvenile shit, I'll admit, but it's serious to us. You could really help us out here."

The girls looked at each other uncertainly. Presently Chloe said, "Well, we'll need to be compensated for the uniforms."

"Of course," Kennedy said, and then nudged Morrison. "You've got cash on you, right?"

"Hey, isn't it enough that I'm half of the duo that has to squeeze into a fucking skirt??" Morrison said indignantly.

"Shut up and fork over the cash," Kennedy said, and then asked the girls, "How much do you need?"

"Six hundred and seventy-five dollars," Ashley immediately replied. "Each."

Morrison balked and said, "You're telling me that one of those uniforms that barely covers your ass costs nearly seven hundred dollars??"

"It's made of special stretchy material," Ashley justified lamely.

"If there's one thing we know, it's stretchy athletic material," Randy cut in, "And nothing costs $675.00, even if you factor in import and labor costs!"

"Take it or leave it," Chloe said with a shrug.

All of the guys were quiet, and then presently they turned to Morrison one by one. He gave them a baffled look and said, "What?? I don't have that kind of cash on me, and I doubt these two take credit!"

"Then let's find an ATM," Miz said, holding up what was unmistakably his partner's wallet.

"When in the hell did you take that from me…??" Morrison started to ask.

"No time for questions," Miz said quickly. "The rest of you guys take Randy and John to get ready. Don't worry, I'll make the withdrawal for you, man, I know your pin."

And so the Miz and Mr Kennedy headed off to siphon $1350.00 out of John Morrison's bank account, while the Shaman of Sexy himself and the Legend Killer were hauled into the cheerleaders' locker room by Carlito and Edge in order to doll them up for the big game.

While that was happening, the face team had also managed to corner two cheerleaders for the Louisiana-Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns. Nina and Lucy, as they gave their names to be, giggled helplessly once John Cena had given them the quick overview of their situation. "So will you help us?" Cena asked.

"We'd love to, guys, really, if for nothing than to see two hunky boys drag it up on the football field," Nina said, "But we can't – we'd so get in trouble for it."

"Oh come on, Nina, live a little," Lucy said, still giggling. "It'd be funny; and these guys are pretty famous, so it would attract a hell of a lot of attention, which equals more butts in seats, which equals a lot more people seeing the team! It's a good thing!"

"Yeah, a good thing," Spanky said dryly, rolling his eyes. "So, uh, those outfits are nice and stretchy, right?"

"Guess you'll find out soon enough," Lucy said, winking at him and making him blush.

"Oh, okay," Nina said, finally giving in. "Wait, will you need our shorts with the uniforms too?"

"Nah, Spanky and Paul have their own stash of little spandex briefs," Matt said, grinning. "Every wrestler does."

"I don't," Cena said quickly.

"Hey, I distinctly remember a scrubbed up John Cena who made his in-ring debut on WWE television wearing baby blue shorts," Punk teased.

"You remember that?" Cena asked, giving him a flabbergasted look.

"Well, we'll be taking your friends now," Lucy said, taking Spanky's arm while Nina took London. "You guys don't mind walking around in a room full of half-naked hot cheerleaders, do you?"

"I see absolutely no problem with it," London said quickly, as Spanky once again turned a beet red and simply allowed himself to be led along with no further complaints.

Jeff started to trail after them but Matt grabbed him by the back of his shirt to keep him in place. "Oh no you don't; you're staying right here."

"But dude, didn't you hear what she said?" Jeff cried, giving his brother a pleading look. "Half-naked hot cheerleaders! I told you we should have taken this challenge together!"

"Why is it that you're always so eager to do a little cross-dressing?" Matt said, annoyed. "It all started when you got into Aunt Hannah's costume trunk and makeup when you were six, didn't it?"

Punk and Cena simply gave each other knowing looks as the Hardys once again bickered away, in what would undoubtedly be one of the few hundred times over the course of the trip. Presently they headed off to get a good view (and recording) of the game.

*******

What happened in the space of the next half hour was duly recorded by roughly three dozen camera phones and a few digital cameras from surprised fans who were in attendance for the game between the Cougars and the Cajuns that day. If one had the patience, the time, and hell, really wasn't doing anything but sitting around all day, one would have been able to piece together the entire story by compiling all these videos together.

First off Randy Orton and John Morrison, both good-looking men in their own right, proved to be very ugly girls. Randy's unnaturally large thighs alone were like tree trunks under the red and black little cheerleader skirt, causing Kennedy to break into a nigh uncontrollable fit of laughter upon seeing him. Morrison's pride and joy, his seemingly 36-pack abs, had been adorned with the glitter that his partner had formerly warned him against, saying that they were 'totally gay, dude'. Obviously Morrison had not heeded the advice, and the sparkly stuff was in ridiculous contrast with the uniform.

Just as the two of them were begrudgingly set to launch into a routine with their equally amused temporary cheer-mates, Miz let out with a loud, "Oh Holy SHIT!" pointed to the opposite side of the field, and then broke into peals of laughter. This drew the attention of the crowd (not to mention tiny little recording devices) to the Cajuns' side.

There, having just come out with the other cheerleaders in blue and white, were Paul London and Spanky Kendrick. Both had been suitably fussed over by the girls on their team, and the ladies had gone so far as to actually give them pigtails and apply a little makeup on their faces.

"The email said put on the cheerleader uniform, idiots, not drag it up!" Edge had yelled out mocking to the other team.

"You're just sore because our guys are actually cuter than yours!" Jeff had immediately shot back.

After a few more nonsensical insults were thrown around the field by both wrestlers and the cheerleaders, as well as people in the stands (one would suppose that the footballers and the officials themselves were a little too perplexed with the situation and the game at hand to react), the last quarter of the game started. Randy and Morrison proved to be somewhat of an asset by assisting with the lifts for the Cougars' cheerleaders, although Morrison did at one point miss a catch and narrowly managed to keep one of the girls from crash landing on her face. On the other side London and Spanky tried to their best to keep up with the chants and the routines, wherein at one point Spanky did a high kick in the air that caught London on the side of the head.

"So, how long do you think it'll take before any of these videos show up on Youtube?" Matt asked Punk at one point.

"About five minutes ago," Punk said, training the camera on London and Kendrick.

"No, get the ball, get the fucking ball!" Jeff then suddenly yelled, and before they realized it the Houston Cougars had scored a touchdown with only six seconds left to win the game.

"YEAH!" Kennedy yelled out in elation. "Our team wins! Bonus points for the hunt! In your face, losers! In your—" it was then that he turned to the other side of the field and found the girls in blue and white devoid of members that were clearly transvestites. "Hey, where'd they go?"

"They got the jump on us!" Edge cried. "Sneaky bastards, let's get out of here and back on the road!"

"You aren't even going to give us time to change out of this shit??" Orton demanded.

"Uh, yeah, he kinda has a point," Carlito said, looking up from where he had turned off the digital camera. "Carlito doesn't really want to watch the two of them wriggle out of those skintight uniforms in the back of the SUV, you know?"

"If that's the worst thing you see on this trip consider yourself lucky," Edge said, and then started herding all of them out of the stadium, a protesting Orton and Morrison still fully dolled-up and getting amused grins from everyone around. They were just in time to see Cena hustle last into the sandstone-colored Kluger at the parking lot before Matt drove it out of there like a bat out of hell. Refusing to be shown up, the heel team followed soon after.

And with the second item down, the race continued.

**Cont'd**

Item numero dos done; who knew cheerleading could be so hazardous? How long did it take for those internet videos to get hits in the hundred thousands? Does applying makeup to a straight man in a dress really equal to 'dragging it up'? Is it really worth it to see Randy and those thighs in a short skirt? Will the boys who took on the cheerleading challenge ever live it down? What is this phenomena called 'Guy Love' really about anyway (and why is it so awkwardly funny)? None of that and more in the next chapter!


End file.
